Alone in the dark
by deanobsessed73
Summary: Pre-pilot A hunt leaves dean hurt in more than just a physical way


« Son of a bitch » cursed dean under his breath clutching his side tightly in a failed attempt at keeping the crimson warm liquid from seeping freely from the deep gash. Well it's surely going to leave a mark, a new one to add to his collection of bruises and scars. Each one is a proof of his bravery and self-sacrifice to save the lives of innocent people. However, the young hunter never complained about them instead he wore them proudly. "Chicks dig scars Sammy "as he always said to his little brother. Well he was completely right as the ladies look at the misfortune souvenirs he got from his various encounters with creatures of the supernatural as a sign of masculinity and roughness. And hey if it increases his chances at getting laid then he would certainly not mind. Not that dean Winchester, even in his worst shape, would require the extra touches to impress the ladies. All it takes is one look into his emerald eyes and they will drown in the depth of the green luminous orbs. With heavy unmeasured steps he continued his struggles towards the impala that lies on the side of the deserted road. The freezing night made him shudder as tremors shook his already battered body violently slowing his pace. How did he end up here like this barely keeping his guts from spilling out? the hunt was supposed to be a simple salt and burn and dad thought that he could take care of it alone while he took off to investigate a series of suicide in Illinois . But it turned out that the ghost that he was dealing with was very ancient and pissed. It was the spirit of a young lady who was brutally murdered by her husband back in 1989. To cut it short the bitch can hold a grudge, killing every man in his thirties who moves into the house that she haunts, where her life was taken by the hands of non-less her lover. Hell even dean had a taste of the bitter anger and the deep sorrow fueling her and surging through her restless poisoned soul as she tossed him around the cemetery like a rag doll . she took advantage of his disoriented state and stabbed him in the side and was keen on slitting his throat right there and then if he didn't gather what's left of his strength and shoot her with a round of rock salt and that bought him enough time to crawl helplessly to the freshly dag grave and light up the whore. And here his is staggering out of cemetery in the middle of the night with a nasty wound courtesy of a vengeful whore. With a sheer determination, the hunter reached his beloved baby barely making his way to the driver's side as his legs gave out and he collapsed on the hard unforgiving gravel, the fall making him wince in pain as it aggravated his already weak state. He fought against the darkness threatening to engulf him and concentrated enough to find the hood of the impala. He reached out his shaky hand to rest on the cold metal seeking relief from the old muscle car. The soothing cool hood on his burning skin sent goosebumps vibrating through his spine. Slowly, he guided himself up supporting his heavy weight with his baby. At that moment, he got struck by the fact that his car was always there when he needed it unlike his father and little brother Sammy. He remembered the night his little brother left him to finish his studies in Stanford and a he felt a stabbing pain in his chest. Sam's words are still hunting him till now "I don't want this life dean. I want to be normal. I am sick of it all , sick of dad's orders, the way he always bosses us around , I am sick of crappy motels and greasy diners' food . I am sick of moving from a place to another. I don't want this life and I don't want anything to do with it anymore "he remembered pleading with his brother for hours to stay, to not leave him alone "Sammy, you can't leave me. What I am going to do without my pain in the ass little brother "what came out next from Sam's mouth threw dean off his guard "never call me Sammy again. My name is Sam. goodbye dean "and just like that his Sammy left him alone in a cold cheap motel room clutching his aching heart and drinking himself to oblivion. He never felt lonelier. And damn he hated it. He hated himself for being a bad brother and a bad son, for making people leave and never look back. He was a burden on his family; even his father can't stand to be around him and started hunting solo. That's his fate. Everyone is going to leave him and he's going to die alone with no one to remember him. With this painful memories playing in his hazy mind, dean opened the Chevy's door welcoming the familiar screeching sound of the old joints. He settled himself carefully on the leather seats with a great effort that left him sweating and breathing heavily. He took a few minutes to collect himself then he switched the key in the ignition, the sound of the engine going to life snatching him from his deep thoughts. He steered his baby from the side of the road slowly and headed to the motel he's staying in, a lonely broken tear making its way on his bruised cheek.


End file.
